


How’s it feel to be under my skin (wrapped around my heart)

by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Banter, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, M/M, Mates, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Stiles Stilinski, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27605198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dearericbittle
Summary: Okay, so Stiles doesn’t have a tattoo kink, but when he spots Derek’s second tattoo in that weird mermaid altercation, he kind of gets a little bit obsessed with it. And Derek being super weird about it isn’t really helping.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 69
Kudos: 744





	How’s it feel to be under my skin (wrapped around my heart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luvs_sterek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvs_sterek/gifts).



> For Bree, who's the most enthusiastic supporter of the greatest sub-fandom
> 
> Last fic for my prompt fest - in the meantime I gained like 150 followers so... That's weird.

Look, everyone and their mother has seen Derek’s tattoo. The guy is just shirtless that much, and it’s kind of really fucking obvious. So yeah, while Stiles totally still thinks about tracing the lines of it with his tongue, he’s not surprised by its presence any longer. 

He doesn’t really marvel over it anymore. 

Not like he does when a particularly handsy mermaid tries to drag Derek along for an undoubtedly gross and watery death, pushing her surprisingly sharp nails into Derek and pulling at his clothes. Derek is struggling to pry her off using his own claws, and Stiles is helplessly trying to figure out how they went from a reasonably harmless parlay to the mermaid trying to drag Derek underwater with her. Like, where did they go wrong? 

That’s when he sees the tattoo though. The second tattoo. The original one is barely showing through Derek’s ripped shirt - because of course it’s mostly ripped in the ab region and Stiles isn’t staring at that or anything. No, instead he’s staring at the way more subtle mark that is revealed by the mermaid pushing down Derek’s jeans a little to reveal his hip. 

And yes, Stiles kind of wants to lick this tattoo too. It’s a curse he’s trying to learn to live with. 

“You got another tattoo?” Stiles asks, dumbly. 

He’s too far away to see the exact details, and the mark isn’t nearly as big as the triskele on Derek’s glorious back, but from where Stiles is standing it just looks like an S - or some kind of tribal symbol that resembles an S or a wiggly line or a wave or a curve. 

Something like that. Clearly Stiles needs to do more research here. 

“An ownership mark?” The mermaid just sounds disappointed. 

She stops trying to drag Derek along with her, as if she’s actually barred from trying to take him as her own just because he got another dumb tattoo without telling the rest of the pack. At least, Stiles is going to assume that Derek hasn’t told the rest of the pack a damn thing. He isn’t exactly the most skilled at revealing personal information to his pack. 

Usually they just end up finding out the hard way. Or, well, that used to be the case, and Stiles has just been dumb enough to think that he’d been making progress with Derek. 

“Yes,” Derek says, and Stiles is pretty damn sure that he’s lying. 

He has to be lying. Because Derek is the Alpha and he doesn’t really have any marks on him that mean that anyone owns him or is the boss of him or whatever. That is kind of the point of the whole ‘being the Alpha’ deal. Derek has the Hale pack mark displayed between his shoulder blades, and that’s the only mark he was ever supposed to need. 

But apparently there is something else. Or someone else. Apparently Derek belongs to someone - someone else. And that stings, even though Stiles holds no claim here. 

No matter how much he would want to take that claim and never let go. 

“Where are they?” The mermaid seems to think she’s entitled to know. 

“No,” Derek refuses. “There will be no challenges. I have been claimed and therefore you have no hold over me. You will allow me to remain with my pack.” 

And the mermaid just listens. Just like that. As if Derek has invoked some kind of magic that he has never bothered to explain to Stiles. Which, that would have been really fucking helpful. What if the mermaid had tried to take Stiles instead? He doesn’t have any tattoos, and he’s kind of hesitant to get one because he’s a wuss who doesn’t want his father to murder him because Stiles is dumb enough to get a symbol of his pack loyalty permanently inked onto his skin. 

Because of course Stiles is permanently linking himself to the Hale pack. He just didn’t know, until now, that a tattoo was required for that kind of thing. Or is it? 

“I wish you well, Alpha Hale,” the mermaid nods and then dives back into the lake. 

Mermaids are fucking weird, and Stiles still wants them to be his friends because how fucking cool is it that Beacon Hills has mermaids and they’re mostly non-violent except for trying to take Derek as their own? Stiles is pretty sure they wouldn’t want him for something like that, because he’s painfully human and that just doesn’t appeal to them, so he’d even be safe. 

He knows how much Derek worries about that. And hides it behind angry comments, of course. 

“What the fuck?” Stiles asks, because well,  _ what the fuck _ . 

“It’s fine,” Derek answers, like the least reassuring person Stiles knows. 

Sure, Derek’s gotten a whole lot better at a bunch of things in his five plus years of being the local Alpha, but he’s still a terrible fucking liar. At least, Stiles can always tell when he’s lying out of his tight ass - and he will absolutely call him on it every single time. 

“Dude,” Stiles is not going to give up that easily. 

“I’ll explain the claiming thing later,” Derek sounds uncomfortable. 

Which naturally means that Stiles is not going to stop prying until he has absolutely every single detail of what is going on here. When Derek is uncomfortable, it means that something serious is going on that he’s not wanted to talk about because of a whole list of stupid reasons. Either it’s him trying to protect the pack from something, or he didn’t think it would be relevant just yet, or he’s just trying to avoid a whole host of awkward questions. 

Guess he failed pretty damn hard on that last one. 

“Dude,” Stiles is just offended when Derek tugs at the waist of his jeans. “I already know it’s there, you might as well just tell me before I find out the hard way.” 

And he will find out. He’s Stiles fucking Stilinski. That means he’s not going to stop until he knows every single thing there is to know about the tattoo and the meaning of werewolf claims and how they affect other supernatural beings. And he’s not going to sleep until he has all of that information, which means a ton of energy drinks and late night Wikipedia spirals until Derek ends up spilling the truth anyway because he’s never going to out-stubborn Stiles. 

“It’s personal,” Derek pretends that they have boundaries in their incestuous little pack. 

“Of course it is,” Stiles steamrolls right through as usual. “No secrets from your Emissary, dumbass. I feel like that’s in one of your werewolf rule books somewhere.” 

It is. Maybe not to the letter, but that’s definitely the extent of some stuff he’s read. Because an Emissary is at their most effective when they know what’s going on within the pack, and especially when they know exactly what their Alpha is up to. 

“Come on, Der,” Stiles is not going to stop pushing. “I promise I won’t tell anyone else about this for at least a week. That’s a good deal. The best one you’re going to get, because we live in each other’s pockets and most of our pack is made up of walking lie detectors.” 

It’s nice how Derek always looks a little pleased when Stiles uses the words ‘our pack’, even though it’s been a thing for years now and Derek really shouldn’t be surprised about it still. He thought the official Emissary things would have taken care of the uncertainty, but apparently Stiles needs to once again reassure his Alpha that he is the only one for Stiles. 

Sadly, in a strictly platonic partnership kind of way. 

“It’s for my mate,” Derek gives in so easily. 

Stiles kind of loves it that Derek is only ever this easy with him, treating him like an equal and reluctantly sharing information before they actually discuss it with the rest of the pack. Sure, it’s led to Erica cracking far too many ‘my two dads’ jokes, but Stiles has learned how to mostly ignore them and chalk that up to wishful thinking on both their parts. 

Erica knows. Of course she knows. She’s Erica. 

“Not in the British or Australian way, I presume?” Stiles isn’t even really expecting an answer. 

Derek gives him one anyway. “Yes.” 

It’s not like Derek has ever even been to the UK or to Australia. Sure, he’s traveled the continental US, and he’s even been to Mexico a couple of times, but mostly the Alpha has had to stay with the land. The Hellmouth has died down significantly over the course of the past few years - the cleansing of the Nemeton has certainly made a world of difference - but that doesn’t mean that it would be safe for the people of Beacon Hills to be without the pack. 

The Hale pack has always been willing and able to take on the responsibility. 

“Soulmate?” Stiles is determined to keep prying until he gets to the bottom of this. 

“Yes,” Derek repeats, seemingly unable to say anything else. 

Not that Derek is usually all that loquacious when it comes to revealing personal information, but the single syllables are kind of annoying. Stiles was pretty sure they’d gotten past it by now, but apparently he was wrong about that, because Derek is being downright squirrelly about the tattoo and the mate thing. And that’s really saying something, okay? 

“Cool, twenty questions it is,” Stiles grins at him. 

By now he knows exactly how to draw Derek out of his shell. He knows when to tease and when to let it go because Derek needs a bit of time before he can talk about it. This is definitely a situation in which option number one is the better choice - because even if he gave Derek all the time in the world, he probably wouldn’t be giving this up without a fight. Better to disarm him with humor and make him see that Stiles isn’t actually asking just to fuck with him. 

“No,” Derek responds, just to be contrary. 

He’s even smiling a little bit, that asshole. God, that smile is just unfair. 

“You are my favorite Alpha,” Stiles tells him far too fondly. “Just tell me.” 

It’s not a lie. Of course it isn’t, and not just because Derek is the only decent Alpha that Stiles has ever known - apart from that weird situation with the time travel that involved Stiles somehow meeting a young Talia Hale from when she was pregnant with Derek. It’s a long story that he doesn’t really tell people, mostly because the details of that situation are for Derek’s ears only and so far Derek has been tight-lipped about how that could have happened. 

Is it bad that it makes Stiles wonder if these things are connected? 

Or is that just his overactive imagination talking? Wouldn’t be the first time. 

“No,” Derek is just smirking now. 

“I’ll start you off,” Stiles isn’t even worried about the soaking wet werewolf walking alongside him. “Werewolves have mates, or soulmates. It’s probably all instinctual and romantic and super special. And you recently met your mate, and instead of talking to me about it like a normal werewolf, you got all broody and got a secret tattoo instead. Did you even tell them about it?” 

Nothing he says provokes a verbal response from Derek, which means that he cannot be that far off in his assumptions. The eye roll Derek sends him after the ‘romantic and super special’ bit tells him that Derek totally appreciates Stiles’ awesome sense of humor. 

He just doesn’t show it in any kind of normal way. 

“They don’t know,” Derek looks away. “They deserve…” 

Alright, Stiles is going to have to put a stop to this before Derek loses every single one of his brain cells. Okay, so they sometimes have shared custody of the brain cells needed to lead the pack, but clearly Derek isn’t using his. Because this is bullshit. 

“If you say they deserve better I will shove mistletoe up your ass,” Stiles warns. “I’ve told you before and I will tell you again. I’m not hearing any of your self-disparaging bullshit. You are a catch, Derek Hale. You’ve grown so much since we’ve met, and therapy was a great decision, and any wolf would be so very lucky to have you.” 

Naturally that little speech makes Derek extremely uncomfortable because he’s never met a compliment that he was actually willing to accept. Stiles is just going to keep doing it though, because one time Derek said that his therapist thought it was very important that Derek learn how to deal with genuine compliments and affection. It’s been very encouraging for Stiles in his quest to make Derek accept all the love languages Stiles is fond of. 

Which is all of them, naturally. Derek deserves to be appreciated in all the ways. 

“Not a wolf,” Derek seems particularly anxious to reveal that juicy tidbit. 

“Wait, so mates don’t have to be wolves?” Stiles is thrilled both because of genuine academic curiosity and because he’s a pathetic dumbass with a crush that won’t go away. 

He’s not  _ just _ asking because of his personal stake in this, but of course it is affecting his inquiries. He just wants to know if there’s a chance, which is fucking dumb because clearly he lost his chance - if he ever had one in the first place. It’s too late for him, because Derek has clearly already found the love of his wolfy life. Whoever they may be. 

“They often aren’t,” Derek shrugs awkwardly. “Wolf mates are the exception. Like Boyd and Erica. It’s considered particularly special and the sign of a strong pack. Though cross-species relationships are extremely important as well. Not just humans and werewolves.” 

Hellhounds and kitsunes and druids or Sparks too, perhaps? Though technically magic-users of the druidic persuasion are totally human. Still, it’s super fucking interesting and Stiles is going to need all of the books to read about this, to add to his personal collection. 

“I’ll get you the books I have on this,” Derek promises as he catches Stiles’ eye. 

“Best Alpha,” Stiles loves learning new information and Derek always indulges him. “I’m going to need all the books on cross-species stuff and mates and basically everything you can get your claws on. After we finish talking about your mate and how you’re going to woo them. Because I’m assuming you’ve mostly been lurking from afar until now.” 

That earns him a soft growl which means that he’s right on the money. Derek isn’t as much of a lurker as he was in his first few months back in Beacon Hills, but he’s never been all that great at approaching strangers - especially if those strangers don’t have a clue about the workings of the supernatural world. Which is why he’s going to need all of the help he can get, even though it’s totally going to royally suck for Stiles to play at being Derek’s wingman. 

“That means I’m not wrong,” Stiles isn’t even going out of his way to make fun of Derek. 

“For once,” Derek mutters, just loud enough for Stiles to hear. 

Please, Stiles is never wrong - or hardly ever - and Derek definitely knows that. Though just because he knows, doesn’t mean that he is actually willing to acknowledge it in front of Stiles like he is in front of the rest of the pack. They usually present a united front then. 

“Hey, come on Pouty,” Stiles nudges at Derek with his shoulder. “I seriously think it can’t be as bad as you seem to think it is. I can totally misappropriate Dad’s resources to make sure that they don’t have any weird secrets just waiting to mess up our lives, and I’ll happily do some proper recon of my own if you want. I’m an excellent wingman, just ask - you know that.” 

Just ask Scotty, is what he’d wanted to say. But it’s no use, because not only have Derek and Scott never seen eye to eye, Scott’s living his happily ever after in France with Allison. Ever since he’d killed Peter Hale and somehow cured his case of lycanthropy (and isn’t that just the most ridiculous thing that Stiles has ever heard), Scott had been determined to stay out of things, even though Stiles just couldn’t sit on the sidelines. 

They’d tried to continue being besties for a while, but it hadn’t quite… stuck, not when Stiles was always getting in the middle of the very things that Scott wanted to forget about. 

“I don’t,” Derek manages. 

“Need a wingman?” Stiles finishes his sentence. “I beg to differ, big guy. If you’re content to let your mate pass you by, you definitely need someone to help you pull your head out of your ass and make a move. And I’m totally your guy. That guy. I’m that guy. For you?”

Freudian slip much? That and he just has to keep shoving his entire foot in his big dumb mouth when it comes to Derek and the big dumb feelings that Stiles has for him. It’s a never-ending pain in the ass - or the mouth, to be precise - and Stiles is over it. 

He can’t even look at Derek right now. He can’t brazen it out this time. 

“Mine?” Derek just has to point out the slip of the tongue. 

“Yes, I get it,” Stiles sighs. “My crush on you is hilarious and the Freudian slips are an endless source of entertainment for everyone. Let’s move on.”

Has he ever said it so openly before? He’s not sure, but hinting at it hasn’t gotten him anywhere. 

Derek obviously knows, but he’s never made a single comment about it - unlike the rest of their pack - until now. Now that he’s actually making a point to point out Stiles’ mouth getting away from him. Because apparently he’s done being subtle too. 

Except Derek was being subtle at how much he really doesn’t want Stiles like that. 

“Entertainment?” Derek is really drawing this out, huh?

“What else would you call it?” Stiles cannot believe that they’re actually talking about this, but he’s hoping to get it over and done with in one go. “You don’t think it’s entertaining that I’ve been in love with you for ages and I’m trying to help you find the love of your life? You should, because it’s fucking hilarious to me. Can’t you tell?”

Literally no one is laughing here. Stiles is definitely not laughing, even though he’s kind of trying to force himself to smile, because if he’s smiling then maybe they can get through this without doing serious, irreparable damage to the friendship they’ve managed to build over the last few years. Look, just because he’s hopelessly in love with Derek, doesn’t mean that he can’t be a great friend and wingman to him. Those things are not mutually exclusive. 

“In love with me?” Derek is stuck doing echoes only. 

“Did you get magic water in your ear when you were getting up close and personal with Beacon Hills’ very own Ariel?” Stiles is very aware that he is getting a bit snippy. “Yes, I’m in love with you. Have been, for ages. Like, an embarrassing amount of time. At least according to Erica, because she’s been making fun of me about this. She’s my favorite.”

Obviously she’s his favorite, and not just because she tortures him like a best friend is supposed to. It’s a part of it, though, because she knows everything about him and she probably would even if she wasn’t a werewolf - she’s just that good. Obviously! There’s a reason he still calls her Catwoman from time to time, and it’s not the leather. Because the pack doesn’t look nearly as much like an S&M cult these days. That’s progress, and shit. 

Derek’s leather jacket, though? Still very much a part of him. Even though he’s had to replace it a couple of times due to the blood and guts and general ripped apart-ness. 

“But,” Derek manages to stammer. “How did I not know?” 

That is a very good answer that Stiles definitely does not know the answer to. Because by all means, it should have been really fucking obvious. 

“You didn’t know?” Stiles is actually surprised about that bit. 

He was - and is - pretty damn sure that the living lie detectors in his pack should know. Derek most of all, because he’s a born wolf and he’s actually good at following his animal instincts most of the time - it’s just natural for him to sniff at someone and to keep track of someone’s heartbeat. He’s found Stiles many a time, just because of his scent or heartbeat. 

Or is this more of a ‘finding Isaac in the pouring rain’ kind of thing? Is Stiles special? Seriously, at some point he’s going to need more information about Alpha-Emissary bonds. 

“I know now,” Derek says, and starts unbuttoning his pants. 

Stiles starts counting his fingers, because this is clearly a dream. Except he has only ten fingers and Derek is still standing in front of him in the middle of the Preserve, pants unbuttoned and clearly not wearing any fucking underwear. It’s one thing to know that Derek goes commando in theory, or to hear about it from the betas, and another thing to experience it in a very private moment after confessing his love for his Alpha. Like, a whole new level. 

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” Stiles asks, because well, he is pretty sure that he wants Derek’s permission for trying to get a peek at what’s in those pants. 

“My tattoo,” is all that Derek has to say to that. 

Well, Stiles is a little too busy trying not to be a straight-up pervert and catch more than just a hint of what Derek’s dick looks like. Because he’s a curious idiot and like, it’s right there so what else is he supposed to look at? Derek’s new tattoo, apparently. 

Though now that he’s getting a closer look at that, he can tell that it’s not a wave or a squiggle or whatever he thought it was at first. The guess of it being an S was a lot closer to reality, because while the tattoo is shaped like an S, there is something hidden in the lines that looks a lot like an M. And a G. It’s almost magical, the way it’s just a letter S until it’s not, and…

An M, a G and an S. So, that’s M. G. S. Motherf-

“You,” and then Stiles just stops. “Of course it’s me.”

Mieczyslaw Genim Stilinski. Initials for Derek’s mate. That he just got tattooed on himself with a fucking blowtorch and wolfsbane involved just so he could have Stiles with him at all times. He has done all that and he’s still never even thought about actually telling Stiles. 

“I should be mad,” he almost laughs then, “but it just makes so much sense. I didn’t tell you because obviously you’d never shown any interest and I figured that you’d do something about it if you wanted to - because I’m very obvious to your wolfy senses, yet not obvious enough to cut through your self-esteem issues. And you were never going to allow me to feel obligated to be with you because you have capital I Issues, which means you always think that you’re about as happy that you’re ever going to be allowed to get.”

And since Stiles is pretty sure that there’s so many levels of happiness within Derek’s reach if he just lets himself have it, it’s almost painful to see at times. Stiles has been doing pretty good at reminding Derek that he’s occasionally allowed to have nice things, but that’s pretty much a life-long mission at this point. But he’s down for still doing that when he’s old and grey. 

Shit, he might actually get to do that until he’s old and grey. Mates mean together forever, right? 

“Which is a lot more happy than you think you deserve to be,” Stiles says pointedly. 

“You’re going to make me happy?” Derek is really trying to sound challenging. 

Trying and failing, because he just sounds scared. Like this is too good to believe, something that could never actually happen. All the bravado is gone, and he’s just standing there, keeping his jeans from dropping to the floor - and then he finally decides to zip up again. 

And yeah, Stiles already misses that tattoo, but he’s pretty sure that he will get many more looks at it in the future. If he has his way - and he will get his way. 

“I’m going to make you so fucking happy,” Stiles vows. “Starting when we get back to your place and you let me put my hands and mouth all over you. Starting with that new tattoo.” 

So yeah, Derek Hale has two tattoos. Everyone knows about the first one. But the second one? That one’s for Stiles. 


End file.
